KizukiTamura

Novembre respire, les feuilles rêvent plus loin, le ciel se penche. Sous l’eau retournée, un désir perd son visage, la pluie le nomme.   November breathes low, the leaves are dreaming afar, the sky is leaning. Beneath turned water, a lost face fades from desire, rain speaks its name now.

Sous l’écorce nue, l’ombre découpe la clairière, la lumière pense Bois figé, sans vent, chaque arbre devient graphite, le jour se suspend   Beneath bare bark, shadow carves out the clearing, light begins to think Still woods, breathless air, each tree turns into graphite, day holds its own breath